Travelogue: pilot whales

Greenland Waters – September 15
Date and time: 15.09.25, 00:45
Location: LAT 62.58°, LON 54.03°
SOG (speed over ground): 11 knots
Wind: 7 knots

The seas have been calm through the night and into the morning, a welcome stretch of quiet. The day began with a surprise touch of winter: snow falling softly across the deck. The flakes were fine, never thick enough to cover anything, but unmistakably snow. To see it at sea in September, with the horizon so grey and the air so sharp, felt both strange and oddly reassuring, as if the Arctic wanted to remind us it was not far behind.

Twice today, the ocean offered us company. Two pods of pilot whales appeared, one with five, the other with six, gliding close enough for us to see their sleek backs before they dove again. Each encounter was brief, but the effect lingered long afterward, lifting the mood of anyone lucky enough to catch a glimpse. There is something about whales that stirs a quiet joy, even if they stay only a moment.

Life on board has been steady, though not without urgency. The crew has been working almost without pause to exchange the heavy tow lines on the bow, knowing the weather is due to turn this evening. It is not work that can be delayed. The lines are long, cumbersome, and awkward, but they must be ready before the storm arrives, so there is a constant sense of running against the clock. The rhythm of the ship seems to change on days like this, everyone focused on the same deadline, each task carrying a little extra weight.

Meanwhile, the skies stay heavy with cloud. Now and then the sun breaks through, turning the water silver for a few minutes before disappearing again. Bird life has been abundant, darting and wheeling around the ship in endless motion. I only wish I had the knowledge to identify them properly. As it is, all I can say with any confidence is: there is a bird, and then there is another. Still, their presence is a comfort, a reminder that we are not alone in this wide expanse.

It has been a quiet day overall, the kind that slips by almost unnoticed yet holds its own quiet significance. Snow in the morning, whales in the afternoon, birds circling in the evening sky, and the steady work of the crew preparing us for what lies ahead. Calm before the storm, perhaps, but for now, calm all the same.